Vision Quest (The Demon's Apprentice Book 3)

by Ben Reeder

  “Your brother is going to be here for at least another day,” Mom said. “If you forget anything we can call him and have him bring it with him. You have Mr. Hooves, and your backpack, so you should have everything you need.”

  “He’s Doctor Hooves, Mom,” Dee corrected her before she gave an exasperated sigh at the failings of adults. Lucas and I chuckled at that, since Dee wasn’t more than a casual fan of the show he was from. He was more social camouflage; Dee was more a fan of another Doctor, even if she didn’t get everything about the show. The Doctor was cool, and so were bow ties, evidently.

  We made it to the cars before Dee remembered something and dragged Dr. C back toward the gate in the chain-link fence that led into the backyard. Once he had the gate open, she practically sprinted toward the shed in the backyard and hopped up and down until he unlocked it and let her in. Moments later, she emerged carrying an eight-inch tube of brass with various shiny bits attached to it.

  “I thought I said no wands,” Mom said to Dr. Corwyn when he caught up.

  “It’s a Sonic!” Dee said before he could answer. “Chance’s is a rod, Dr. Corwyn’s is a wand, and mine is a Sonic Screwdriver.” She waved it around, and the end lit up as it buzzed.

  “It’s inert,” Dr. C said. “I laced it with an iron core, so it’s grounded out. Just an LED and a chip to make the sound.”

  “And I always say they have sonics,” Dee said with a triumphant smile. “Because magick isn’t real,” she recited.

  “I’m going to regret this, but okay,” Mom said.

  “Not nearly as much as I think I’m going to,” Dr. Corwyn said. “Dee, you aren’t going to be able to take it on the plane with you. You’ll have to pack it in your suitcase.” She nodded, but I could tell by her expression she wasn’t happy about that.

  A few minutes later, Mom and Dee were in the Mustang with me, and in my rearview mirror I could see Dr. C looking uncomfortable in the passenger seat of the Falcon as Lucas backed out of the driveway. The Mustang rumbled to life and I backed out behind him, then followed him as he headed for the airport. The black 1967 Shelby GT model might have been old, but she still looked good, and she was still an eight-cylinder beast under the hood.

  “Promise me you’re going to drive the speed limit the whole way,” Mom said as we took the first turn. “I don’t have the money to pay for a ticket. I can barely afford to cover the insurance on this thing as it is.”

  “Not a mile an hour over,” I said. “Or two or five or ten,” I added quickly.

  “Mom, can we do a scrapbook for our trip?” Dee asked from the back seat, and I thanked her for that, but quietly. As they rehashed the vacation so far, I kept one ear on the conversation, but both eyes on my surroundings. I’d been keeping a pretty low profile since my birthday in March; I hadn’t pissed anyone off for at least a couple of months, and no one knew where we were outside of the Conclave. That hadn’t kept a warlock from stumbling across us a few days ago, though she’d seemed as surprised as we were when she found us. Still, we’d handled her, but I’d been on edge ever since. It wasn’t until we pulled into the parking lot at Mathis Field that I let my grip on the steering wheel relax. The airport itself was a public facility, and it flew an American flag, so it was automatically considered exclusively cowan territory. My shoulders unknotted a little as I shifted the Mustang out of gear and pulled on the parking brake.

  Mom let me carry her duffel bag, but Dee was fiercely insistent that she could handle her own suitcase. Lucas and Wanda fell in beside me and we let the adults lead the way. As we headed across the small lot toward the doors, I couldn’t help but notice the grin on Wanda’s face. She’d gained a couple of inches lately, both in height and in curves, something that hadn’t been lost on the local boys. Seeing her standing beside Lucas seemed to make it stand out all the more, especially how her face seemed to have gotten a little leaner.

  “This summer vacation thing boring you?” I asked as we walked through the doors and into the lobby.

  “I’m a city girl,” she said with a little bit of the local twang.

  “None of us are exactly the country type,” Lucas added. “Except Dr. C.”

  “I had a good time,” Wanda said. “I’m just looking forward to getting home.” We trooped across the terminal toward the ticket counter on the left. The line wasn’t very long, mostly men and women in uniform, with a few folks in business wear. A few minutes of shuffling forward, and Mom, Dee, Dr. C, and Wanda were checked in, their bags checked, and we had nothing to do but wait.

  “Make sure you go through the list twice before you leave,” Mom said. “Stop every couple of hours on the road or if you start to feel drowsy, okay?” Lucas and I nodded in unison. “Do you have enough money for gas?”

  “We’re good, Mom,” I said. “We have enough money to drive to St. Louis if we have to.” She smiled and put her hand on my arm.

  “I just worry, sweetie. Make sure you give Dr. Corwyn back whatever is left when you get back home.”

  “Mara, it’s fine,” Dr. C said. “Chance can deal with anything he might run into, and don’t worry about the money.”

  “We’ll call you when we leave, and we’ll check in along the way, Miss Murathy,” Lucas said with a smile. Mom was about to say something else when the PA system crackled to life and announced their flight boarding. Wanda was on her feet, her phone out and finger flying across the screen before Mom could get her purse and Dee’s backpack. I got enveloped in a Mom-hug, then tackled by my sister leaping from her chair into my arms. Even though her feet were still a foot off the floor, I staggered back from the impact.

  “What is Mom feeding you?” I asked as I squeezed her hard. “Bricks?”

  “Promise you’ll come straight home?” she said as I let her down.

  “You know it,” I said. “No side quests along the way.” That seemed to satisfy her, and she accepted her backpack from Mom. I turned to Dr. C.

  “You packin’?” I asked. He pulled his vest aside to reveal the butt of his wand sticking up out of the special pocket sewn into the lining.

  “That and a couple of touchstones,” he said, which for him was more than enough to handle most armies. “Remember, Lazarus Moon is in Fort Worth, so if you need any help along the way, you can call on him.”

  “I’ll be fine, sir,” I said for the umpteenth time. He nodded and put one hand on my shoulder.

  “I’m sure you will. I guess I worry a little, too. Your proctor should be here soon, so I recommend staying close by. You don’t want to keep him waiting. We’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He turned and trotted to catch up with everyone else, leaving Lucas and me to watch them file through the security line.

  “Is it just me, or is Wanda’s head not in the game right now?” Lucas asked as we watched them shuffle forward.

  “Kinda,” I said. “She’s been blowing up someone’s phone all morning.”

  “Boyfriend?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Probably. I’m gonna wait for this proctor guy here. If you want to head back to Dr. C’s place and hang out …” I offered.

  “Dude, I’m in this with you,” he said. “You wait, I wait.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “In a couple of months, I won’t get to, Chance,” he said. “So we’re hanging out as much as we can until then.” I couldn’t argue that.

  Five hours later, I was beginning to think he wished I had. By then the folks in the airport’s cafeteria had seen more than enough of us, and we knew the arrival and departure times of every flight for the rest of the day. It was almost three in the afternoon when the PA system called my name and asked me to pick up the courtesy phone by the ticket counter.

  “Mr. Fortunato, this is the tower,” the voice on the other end said when I picked up the receiver. “We’ve been asked by Mr. Gage to let you know he’s landing in five minutes. You can meet him at Hangar B.” Without waiting for me to answer, the guy on the other end hung up.

  “Great,�
� I said. “Where the hell is Hangar B?” One of the ladies behind the ticket counter looked up and smiled.

  “It’s down the runway a little ways. It’s one of the private hangars,” she said. “Ask at the operations office over there, they’ll have someone take you out there.”

  Ten minutes later, we were bouncing along in a golf cart toward a curved building. The sound of a jet engine greeted us as the driver pulled through the open hangar doors, and I could feel the heated gust from its exhaust wash over us. Standing beside it was a blonde guy in slacks and a dress shirt and a blazer. A pile of luggage was stacked beside him, and he looked at his watch as we pulled up. I made him at eighteen or nineteen. His blonde hair was styled within an inch of its life, and his narrow face was deeply tanned.

  “I’ve been waiting a full two minutes,” the man said as we pulled to a stop in front of him. “I gave you plenty of notice of my arrival, and I do not like having my time wasted, Fortunato.”

  Lucas shook his head and winced at the greeting, and I got out of the golf cart.

  “I’ve been waiting five hours longer than I planned on,” I told him as I crossed the distance between us. “You’re here to observe me in my life, not make me jump to make yours more convenient. You’ve already set me back an entire day, so don’t bitch about two minutes.”

  He took a half-step back with a wide-eyed look on his face, then he recovered and shook his head.

  “Do you even know who I am? I’m Winthrop Gage, of the Boston Gages. You will not take that tone with me, plebe. Not if you want to even set foot in the halls of the Franklin Academy. One word from me and you’ll be lucky to shine the shoes of a real mage.” He tilted his head back a little and actually looked down his nose at me before he gave me a sniff of disapproval.

  I crossed my arms and tilted my head. “You can keep me out of the Franklin Academy?” I asked.

  “With a single word,” he said.

  “Do it,” I said. “You’d make my day.”

  Without a word, he pulled a phone from inside his blazer and tapped the screen. “I have Master Draeden’s personal number on speed dial,” he said. Moments later, he put the phone to his ear and turned away from me. “Master Draeden, Winthrop Gage. This Fortunato boy, he simply won’t do. He’s insolent, slovenly, and he has no notion of how to treat his betters. I’m formally … no, sir … no, sir, it isn’t. I understand that, sir, but we have standards … no, sir, I don’t. No, sir, I haven’t. Yes, sir, I do recall that. And I appreciate your … yes, sir, I do. But, Master Draeden, those are not the same. I’m a … no, sir, there is no difference. Yes, sir. One moment.” He turned and handed me the phone, his face set in a stiff expression. “He would like to speak to you.”

  “A valiant effort, Mr. Fortunato,” Draeden’s voice came over the line. “But you won’t be getting out of your appointment to the Franklin Academy that easily.”

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying,” I said.

  “I can, but I won’t. Mr. Gage is not there to approve or disapprove of your attendance at the Academy. He is there to observe your character, evaluate your level of skill, and recommend placement upon arrival. Nothing more. If you pull anything like this again, I will personally recommend that you be placed in preparatory classes for the rest of the summer session. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Put Mr. Gage back on the line then.”

  I handed the phone back to Gage.

  “We’re gonna need a bigger boat,” Lucas said as he walked up beside me. He nodded toward the pile of luggage. “They’re sending another cart for the luggage. Should be here in a few minutes.”

  “Do you think he’s got one of those giant hair dryers in the trunk?” I asked.

  “If he does, you can slap a tail on my butt and call me Barf.”

  Gage walked back toward us as he put the phone back in the pocket in his blazer, looking like he’d swallowed a live slug.

  “Well then, plebe,” he said. “Let’s be on our way.”

  “Isn’t that a West Point or Annapolis term?” Lucas asked.

  “The Franklin Academy predates the military colleges by decades. They took many of their traditions from us. You must be his cowan friend, Lucas Kale. Where is Wizard Corwyn?” he asked.

  “Flying back with my mom and my sister.”

  “This is highly insulting,” Gage huffed. “I cut my vacation short to come all the way to this hell hole, the least he could do is be here to meet me.”

  “You’re seven hours late,” I said. “You’re lucky we were still here to pick you up.”

  “I ... I’m lucky?” he sputtered. “You have some nerve, speaking to me like that. You’ll show me some respect. My time is valuable, and you’re lucky to have me here.” By then the second cart had arrived, and the two men in coveralls were putting his bags on it.

  “Whatever, Winnie,” I said as I took the front seat in the cart. “Get in or walk.” He got in. The ride back was quiet, not least because of the hundred-degree-plus heat. By now, Lucas and I were used to it, but Winthrop looked like he was about to melt. When we got to the cars, he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the sheen of sweat off his face before he started insulting the guys putting his luggage in the back of the Falcon.

  “We’re not all going to fit in that little thing,” he said after Lucas and I gave the two porters a few bucks and thanked them.

  “You’re riding with me,” I said as I went to the Mustang.

  “I suppose it would be overly optimistic to hope that there was even a two-star hotel in this city,” he said as he got in.

  “No clue. You’re staying with us at Dr. C’s place.”

  “I am not sleeping on a couch or on some fold-out bed,” he started to protest.

  “Dude, chill. You’ll be in the second bedroom,” I told him. “Do you bitch about everything?”

  “I set high standards, and I don’t accept anything less than the very best from anyone.” He cut the statement off as if there was more he was going to say. I let it lie and started the Mustang, then pulled out behind Lucas. With the windows down, Gage lost a little of the wilted look to him, though he never got past slightly irritated.

  “Where is he going?” Gage asked when Lucas turned off to the right.

  “To pick up some stuff we were supposed to grab hours ago,” I said as we crossed over the Concho River. Dr. C’s place was only a few blocks away by then, so the awkward silence only lasted for a couple of more minutes. Junkyard was jumping and barking at the fence by the time we pulled under the awning and turned the engine off. I got out and went to the fence to say hello.

  “Sorry we took so long, buddy,” I said to him as I reached over the fence and rubbed his ears. “You want some pizza tonight? Would that make it up to you?” He barked and spun in place before he came back to me and put his paws up on the fence. I smiled at the idea, since Winthrop had no idea what kind of torture he was in for later. Cheese and Junkyard made for a smelly combination, which was why I almost never let him have any. “This is Winthrop,” I said, nodding toward our guest. “He’s a guest, so no biting him.” Junkyard leaned toward Winthrop and sniffed at him, then tilted his head and gave him a sort of huff.

  “What breed of dog is that?” Gage asked.

  “Best I can tell, he has some Boxer in him, some Rottweiler, and a little Pit Bull. And he’s all mutt.”

  “I agree. Fortunately, pets aren’t allowed at the Academy. Only familiars.”

  “He is my familiar,” I said.

  “You’re joking. No, I see that you aren’t. That … bandana won’t do. You’ll have to get a proper collar on him.”

  “He won’t wear one,” I said. “And I won’t put one on him.”

  Gage just gave a short laugh and said, “Your first day is going to be fun to watch. All that aside, can we get out of this infernal heat?”

  I nodded and headed for the front door. The window unit was keeping the front room pretty cool,
and he closed his eyes as the chilled air hit him. I headed for the door into the hallway on the right, then opened the door on my left. As hallways went, it was really more of a box, with doors on all four sides.

  “This was Dr. Corwyn’s room,” I said as I flipped the light on. A twin bed took up the right side of the room, with a desk on the far wall next to a dresser that sat right in front of the door. Posters covered the walls, including Farrah Fawcett’s iconic red swimsuit photo. “You’ll be sleeping in here tonight.”

  “Dear Lord,” Gage almost whispered. “Did I go back in time to the sixties?”

  “Late seventies,” I said. “If you get the urge to boogie down or play that funky music, I’ll get the disco ball down from the attic for you. Bathroom’s the next door to the right here, and Lucas and I will be in the room across the way.” I stepped back and he followed me out of the hall and through the kitchen and dining room to the family room at the back of the house.

  “We might as well get started,” he said as I sat down in one of the two recliners that faced the TV. “Show me the tools you’ve made so far.”

  “Seriously?” I said.

  “Very seriously. Cowans have no business dealing in mage affairs, so while he’s gone is the best time.” He sat in the other recliner and moved the old TV Guide off the end table that sat between them. I pulled my trusty TK rod from my pocket and resisted the urge to use it on him before I laid it on the table.

  “Ah, the infamous telekinesis rod. May I?” he said, gesturing at the length of red-leather-wrapped copper. I shrugged and gave him a nod. He picked it up and took a moment to inspect the quartz crystal tip, then looked at the butt end of it, which I’d replaced with a polished garnet for a little extra push. After giving it a critical inspection, he set it down, then put his thumbs and index fingers together and muttered something under his breath. When he moved his hands apart, he kept his fingertips and thumbs touching to create a glowing green sheet of magick in the space he’d just created. Then, with another movement, he pulled his hands apart a few inches and the green rectangle expanded. When he opened his hands, the rectangle stayed suspended in midair. He reached for my TK rod again and held it up in front of the floating green energy sheet.